


Snow Day

by Bookgirlbx



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ichabbie Valentine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 21:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13303239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookgirlbx/pseuds/Bookgirlbx
Summary: Ichabbie Valentine one shot for Tumblr





	Snow Day

Crane sat in the empty cabin layered in his long shirt and breeches under two heaping flannel blankets. His wet boots were close to the small fireplace; toes tingling and flexing for heat. He’d just come in from the cold after hauling in some firewood. Miss Jenny had gifted him a pair of grey cashmere fingerless gloves that now cupped his steaming mug of English tea heating through his hands. The light steam rose from the hot liquid and ghosted his bearded face. He sighed settling into himself.

Outside the small cabin in the woods, an unrelenting blizzard swept through Sleepy Hollow blanketing every surface with snow amidst whipping winds. The howling gales fiercely moved through the Hudson Valley and coated the landscape. Crane could stay cloaked like this all day. A disquieting mood hung all around him.

With a sweep of his right hand he absentmindedly traced down his beard wondering why in hell Abbie had not returned his phone calls. He was worried, but also annoyed that the Lieutenant was not yet safe at home. His silence was only broken by the intermittent gusting of wind and crackling of the hearth as his mind weighed on his partner. He flexed his fingers to regain feeling.

He kept eyeing his phone compulsively just in case the Lieutenant decided to contact him. He tried to recollect if he’d said or done something that would have caused offense. For all his charm and pristine manners, he knew he could be insensitive at times. Crane just needed to hear her voice, to be reassured that she was alright. He closed his eyes and said her name “Abbie” with soft tenderness.

In his pocket was a folded parchment – a handwritten Valentine. Crane tried his hand at writing a poem in alliterative style, but to his disappointment, the words could not quite convey the depth of his regard for Abbie. His attempts at honesty felt clumsy. Tucked away in the inner pocket of his overcoat was a confession that just would not do.

"Abigail, I adore you. I pray that you accept my amorous affections. Your attributes are abundant and my love for you is abiding. I acquiesce to my adoration for you and humbly pray you reciprocate my attachment. I await patiently our assignation where I can demonstrate my ardor."

The poem fell flat, just like his intimate overtures. Crane was stunned by his lack of eloquence when it came to his feelings for the Lieutenant. He shook his head in muted shame.

Crane sat as he was for a quarter of an hour before he heard a soft rapping on the front door of the cabin. He rose to investigate what visitor should arrive in such inopportune weather. He could barely make out a hooded figure caught in the bluster of snowflakes through the window. He squinted his eyes and made out the familiar silhouette of Abbie carrying a cardboard box. She knocked again and waited to be invited in from the treacherous winter storm. 

Crane hurriedly opened the door and grabbed the box from her arms. Setting it down by the threshold, he grabbed Abbie by the forearms into a tight embrace. She encircled him with her arms and lovingly held him.


End file.
